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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27327007">Something's Brewing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeSleepySloth/pseuds/SomeSleepySloth'>SomeSleepySloth</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops &amp; Cafés, Deputy Derek Hale, First Meetings, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pre-Slash</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:40:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,927</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27327007</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeSleepySloth/pseuds/SomeSleepySloth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Hale has been working at the Beacon Hills Sheriff's Station as their newest deputy for the past five months.<br/>It's all going well, until they get a new receptionist.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>402</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Something's Brewing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Based on the interaction with the security guard of my office lobby, who actually greets me 'Good Morning' and also remarks about my choice of caffeinated beverage daily.</p><p>This is my first work in the Sterek fandom, but I have read so many brilliant fics, so I thought I'd contribute one to this fantastic fandom.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Derek’s head is bent over his phone, fingers hovering over the keyboard while he formulates a reply to Laura’s text inquiring about his general well-being. He knows his sister means well, but he is certain that sisterly concern does not necessitate a twice-daily check in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then again, the Hales have always been a close knit family; Derek’s decision to accept the transfer to Beacon Hills, moving away from Laura who is busy kicking ass as a high-flying lawyer in Boston is probably equally hard on them both. Especially since their parents are busy gallivanting around Asia now that they have retired, while Cora is away in Europe on exchange. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It is the first time that the Hale family has been separated from each other for such a long time, and with time zones being an absolute nightmare to coordinate Facetime meetings over, Derek figures that everyone misses each other.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, if all it takes is a text to reassure Laura, then Derek will gladly be the best brother ever by replying to her text. It doesn’t stop a sigh from escaping his lips nevertheless. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tucks his phone back into his pocket as he shoulders the door open when a cheery greeting shatters Derek’s concentration.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good morning!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He definitely does not jerk in shock, nor does his fingers fumble with his phone that nearly slipped out of his slack grip. No, Deputy Derek Hale is made of sterner stuff than that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And when he looks up towards the reception desk, he sighs in relief inwardly at the fact that his excellent composure prevented him from accidentally throwing his phone at the person who had greeted him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The damaged phone would have been a pain, but that would not have been the worst of it, because Derek is certain that he would be in for quite the ribbing if his phone had hit Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Station’s new receptionist. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Derek recognises this new face beaming brightly up at him from behind the counter, well, it isn’t exactly a new face, since he has seen this face on previous occasions, but only in photos. Sheriff Stilinski would gladly talk the ears off of any of the deputies about his son, Stiles Stilinski, who was studying Criminal Justice at Yale University. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Derek has never met Stiles, but in the five months since he started work as the newest Deputy, he has heard enough about the younger Stilinski from the Sheriff. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not that he minds, because he is certain his own father used to do that with the lawyers at his law firm. It had taken some serious convincing (and possibly bribes) for Papa Hale to retire the picture of Derek at his college graduation, because all the Columbia gown managed to achieve was make him look like a Smurf. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After five months, Derek is well-aware of how much Sheriff Stilinski loves his son, and giving said son a bruise on his rather handsome face is definitely going to land Derek in the Sheriff’s black book.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Derek is busy pondering the potential ramifications of him accidentally hitting Stiles in the face with his brick of a phone when he hears a soft cough, the sort of awkward cough one gives to break the silence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He snaps out of his trance to see an expectant look on Stiles’ face and his brain finally catches up to the present. Laura’s chastising voice pops up in his mind - </span>
  <em>
    <span>Der-bear, if someone says hi to you, you say hi back. A grunt or a nod is not an appropriate response, you misanthrope! </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhm  hi, good morning,” is all he manages to stammer out before fleeing for the safety of the bullpen, thankful that his beard will hide the godawful blush he probably has.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Derek sinks into his chair, he rubs at his face wearily; that was indeed a terrible first impression he had made on Stiles. He should have known better than to attempt human interaction while caffeine-deprived. Although he is rather curious as to what Stiles is doing here, because according to the Sheriff, Stiles had secured a job with the FBI, which doesn’t actually have an office in Beacon Hills. Or maybe they did, Derek hasn’t exactly made it his business to keep up with the branch office openings of the FBI.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He glances up and sees Jackson leaning back in his chair while casually flicking at his phone, completely ignoring the mountain of reports currently piled on his desk. The other deputy is an obnoxious idiot, but a knowledgeable one at the very least. His curiosity winning out, Derek clears his throat to catch Jackson’s attention as he raps a fist on his desk. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bastard merely continues to look at his phone although the slight smirk belies the fact that he had heard Derek.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jackson,” Derek tries again. Deputy Whittemore makes a show of putting his phone down huffily before giving Derek his attention. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes Derek, how may I assist you?” he inquires, although how someone manages to infuse that much annoyance in such a short sentence is truly astounding.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhm,” Derek starts and jerks a thumb in the general direction of the entrance, “did you see the new receptionist?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jackson merely grunts. “That tiny annoying twerp?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Boyd, a tall burly man who could give Derek a run for his money with his misanthropic ways, reaches over to smack Jackson over his head with his case file. “That tiny annoying twerp is the Sheriff's son,” he points out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh right, Boyd has been here for as long as Jackson has, he probably knows about Stiles. Derek makes a mental note to ask Boyd in the future, he is definitely less annoying than Jackson. Although pretty much anyone is, even old Mrs Steiner who pinches Derek’s cheeks whenever she sees him in the supermarket. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fingers flying up to his hair to restore it to its pristine state, Jackson rolls his eyes at both Derek and Boyd, “whatever, he’s annoying.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bit rich coming from you, Jackson” Boyd replies mildly, before turning to Derek, “So. What about Stiles?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh. I was just wondering what he’s doing here. Since he’s meant to be with the FBI last I heard?” Derek inquires politely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Boyd nods. “Yes, but Emma went into labour unexpectedly last night, so she is away on maternity leave. Stiles is on a break before he starts his job, so he decided to help out,” he says matter of factly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ah.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anyway, do you have the report for the Anderson burglary? The Sheriff was asking for it when he came in,” Boyd informs him, evidently done with the Stiles-related conversation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, right here. I’ll take it to the Sheriff.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Boyd gives him a nod of approval before focusing back on the report he was reading.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Derek scribbles a quick note on a post-it note - Buy Emma a gift!! - underlining it twice and sticking it to his computer screen before he heads towards the Sheriff’s office with the requested report.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For the next fortnight, every time Derek walks through the front doors, he is greeted by Stiles without fail.  Derek has actually worked his way up to replying “Good Morning” without blushing or stuttering, so he counts that as a victory.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man is always cheerful, sporting a bright grin on his mole-speckled face, and it is indeed a sight for sore eyes. His perkiness is infectious enough that Derek finds himself actually smiling back. Although judging by the baffled expression on Stiles’ face, it might actually be more of a grimace.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cora has told him that he has RBF - Resting Bitch Face, but it isn’t something that can be helped as he has told his sister repeatedly, while fending off the razor she waved threateningly in his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Derek likes his eyebrows as they are, and no he doesn’t care how fearsome or thick they look. </span>
  <em>
    <span>(They are perfect, thank you very much, shut up Cora. Also, it isn’t very nice to refer to people as bitches!)</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Laura once cackled away in the corner while informing her siblings that RBF also stood for Resting Bunny Face, which was plain rude, because it isn't Derek’s fault that his front teeth are just </span>
  <em>
    <span>slightly</span>
  </em>
  <span> elongated. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And he didn’t even realise that his bunny teeth will peek out to worry at his bottom lip when he is deep in thought over his maths homework! Not until his annoying cousin Malia had pointed that out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Derek rues the day that he outgrew being able to bite his siblings and get away with it, because that was his signature move whenever someone made fun of his bunny teeth. He is literally chomping at the bit to do that again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sometimes (read five times a day), he wonders what heinous crime he had committed to be saddled with his siblings.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Right when Derek had gotten used to this new morning routine, he is once again thrown for a loop when Stiles tacks on a “coffee again?” after they have both exchanged ‘good morning’s. Derek glances down at the coffee cup clutched in his hand, brows creasing in confusion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Going to need it for today,” he mumbles as he raises his fist to rub the sleep out of his bleary eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because the Anderson burglary has been an absolute pain to deal with. The Sheriff’s office had apprehended the burglar who had immediately confessed to his crimes under the prodding of his lawyer who was hoping to make a plea bargain. It would have been a simple open and close case, except the burglar had admitted that the Anderson house was the first of a few properties targeted by his merry band of burglars. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And over the past week, Derek has been interrogating the criminal, trying to elicit more information from him, while scouring for evidence to apprehend the other three thieves before they could strike other properties. He has barely had time to breathe, needless to say, sleep in the past week. So coffee is a must.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stiles raises an eyebrow. “Just today?” he teases with an impish grin on his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And there is that flush once again. Derek is once again thankful for his beard because he can feel the rush of warmth in his cheeks as he blushes in embarrassment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Admittedly, much as the Anderson case is upping his caffeine intake, his caffeine addiction is something of an open secret in the office. His family and colleagues like to poke fun at him for that. Derek had once threatened to abstain from caffeine and leave Laura to deal with his cranky and caffeine-deprived self in retaliation to her incessant teasing; she had promptly gone to Starbucks and bought him a triple shot espresso.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even Boyd has commented that Derek might as well have a coffee mug surgically attached to his hands given how often he is chugging down coffee. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Derek has definitely not entertained thoughts of investing in the local coffee shop, because if he was drinking that much coffee, he might as well get some returns on it right? Nope, definitely not.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Derek grumbles out, but the slight tug of his lips at the corner soften his harsh words. The enthusiastic thumbs up and “good luck with the Anderson case” that Stiles calls out to him indicates that he probably knew Derek is teasing him back as well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>And so began a new tradition, every morning Derek will come in with a coffee and Stiles will greet him “Good morning” before enquiring about his caffeine status. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first day that Derek overslept and didn’t have time to stop by the coffee shop on his way to work, Stiles had put on an aghast expression, clutching his heart in shock. “No coffee? Surely not?” he gasped out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Derek’s glare had no effect because Stiles had just chortled with laughter and ran past Derek into the bullpen. “Hey guys, heads up that Derek is coming in uncaffeinated,” he hollers, when the deputies’ heads whipped up to stare at him. Derek shoves him aside none too gently and skulks towards his desk, ignoring the sniggers of the other deputies. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Although it does take considerable restraint to not chuck his badge in Jackson’s face when he mocks Stiles. (</span>
  <em>
    <span>“I wonder if being uncaffeinated will make that idiot less annoying.”)</span>
  </em>
  <span> He has no idea what grudge Jackson has against Stiles that warrants such malicious remarks, but he is wary of wading into affairs that do not concern him, so he tamps the urge to punch Jackson in his very rude face and boots up his computer instead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stares at his computer screen for five minutes, the words looking oddly like hieroglyphics, before deciding that drinking the sludge the office pantry tries to pass off as coffee is better than going through the next three hours without caffeine. He does need to get started on logging the evidence for the Stevens case.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he comes back from lunch with his precious cup of coffee cradled in his hands, Stiles shoots him a grin, one that Derek does not think makes him look remarkably handsome (he blames his quality-caffeine deprived brain for that stray thought) , “Look who’s finally got his cup of coffee!” he remarks, looking like the cat that got the canary. Derek resists the urge to stick his tongue out at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One morning, when Derek comes into work, there isn’t any greeting. He walks on autopilot, rounding the desk, one foot already in the bullpen before he realises that he has not heard Stiles’ voice. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Odd. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He turns around only to see the younger man staring morosely ahead as he aimlessly fiddles with the pen in his hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It is such a sudden change from his usual perky self and Derek finds himself torn between worry and concern at what had happened in the past twelve hours since they had bade each other goodbye at the station. He hovers at the threshold of the bullpen trying to decide whether to approach Stiles when he hears his name.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hale! Briefing in Room C now!” Isaac calls out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Derek frowns, gaze flicking between the bullpen and Stiles, before deciding that he will check in on the younger man after the meeting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It isn’t until an hour later when he sees the Sheriff walking by the briefing room with an equally solemn expression on his face that someone clues him in on the significance of the day. “It’s Mrs Stilinski’s death anniversary,” Isaac whispers across from him when he catches sight of Derek’s befuddled expression. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi Derek,” Erica greets when he pushes the door open, the barista already setting to work on Derek’s drink. In the nearly six months that he has been visiting Beacon Hills Coffee Shop, she has memorised his coffee order - Grande Oat Latte with an extra shot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Derek hands over a ten dollar note to pay for his drink, an image of Stiles flashes through his mind, that sombre expression a stark contrast against his usually cheerful demeanor. He impulsively tells Erica to add a hot chocolate to his order. Derek has never seen Stiles drink coffee in the entire two months that he has known the younger man but hot chocolate is always a safe bet, especially when it comes with marshmallows. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He has fond memories of his mother cheering him up with hot chocolate whenever he had a bad day; they’d sip at the hot beverage, and the sight of his mother with a whipped cream moustache would send him into a fit of giggles, his earlier sorrows drained away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gazing down at the cup of hot chocolate in his hand, Derek wonders if he is making the right choice here. Friends bought each other drinks right? He would have called Laura about this conundrum, but he doesn’t really want to hear his sister’s laughter over the phone, as she helps him wade through another social situation. Although, can Stiles and him be considered friends? They exchanged pleasantries in the morning and in the evening. That ought to count for something right?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Catching sight of Stiles’ slumped figure at the reception desk when Derek strolls back into office, he decides to stop overthinking it. He steels himself and gently places the cup onto the counter, the paper cup landing with a soft thunk against the glass surface. When Stiles continues to poke at his phone, Derek clears his throat awkwardly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This time, Stiles jerks up in shock, brown eyes blown wide as he looks around wildly before his gaze settles on Derek, who has a wry grin on his face at how the tables have turned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh hey Derek,” Stiles says, before his eyes land on the cup emblazoned with the name “Beacon Hills Coffee Shop” perched atop the counter (Y</span>
  <em>
    <span>eah they really aren’t terribly original with their naming, Derek thinks to himself</span>
  </em>
  <span>). “Coffee again?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s hot chocolate.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The receptionist wrinkles his nose in confusion, and he opens his mouth, probably to question Derek about his sudden change in tastes. But before he can get his words out, Derek pushes the cup towards him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s for you,” Derek clarifies, scuffing his shoe against the floor in nervousness when all Stiles does is stare at him with bewilderment. He wonders if he should take the hot chocolate back when a pale hand reaches up to swipe the cup off the counter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stiles cradles the cup in his hands, slim fingers curled around the cup fiddling with the coffee sleeve, as if seeking warmth from it on this dark and cold day. “Thank you Derek,” he breathes out, the gentleness of it preserving this moment of solitude between both men.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Derek doesn’t offer platitudes, because he knows none of those were what he wanted to hear when his grandmother was cruelly ripped away from him after being hit by a drunk driver. Instead, what he says is “If you want to talk about it, I’m here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Stiles gives him a smile, it feels different from the usual ones. This smile doesn’t crinkle his eyes nor does the corner of his lips turn up baring his teeth, this smile isn’t exuberant, it is… soft, soft and tender. There is a shiny sheen covering those doe eyes, but the gratefulness in them is unmistakable. Nor is the “thank you Derek” he murmurs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Derek reaches over the counter to pat Stiles’ shoulder, the movement awkward with the counter in between them. He most certainly does not shiver when the other man’s hand reaches up to squeeze Derek’s wrist in appreciation, the pale fingers wrapping around Derek’s own tan wrist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome,” he replies warmly, giving Stiles’ shoulder one final pat before he reluctantly removes his hand from the bony shoulder and shuffles into the bullpen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Derek steps foot into Beacon Hills Coffee Shop the next morning for his usual coffee, he freezes for a minute when Erica asks if he’d like a hot chocolate to go with it as well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stiles </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> seem to love the hot chocolate drink yesterday, but does that mean Derek has carte blanche to buy him hot chocolate now? Were they at the </span>
  <em>
    <span>buy-drinks-for-each-other</span>
  </em>
  <span> stage of their friendship? He rubs at Hamilton’s face on the ten dollar bill, before deciding, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it was just a hot chocolate, it only cost three dollars.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And if Stiles didn’t want it, Derek can just foist it onto Isaac; that man would guzzle anything down, literally. Derek has seen that man mix five different tea bags together in one cup, </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, get me a hot chocolate as well,” he informs Erica.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He exits the coffee shop with a lighter pocket and a heavier heart, weighed down by hesitation over whether he is making the correct choice. Thankfully, the way Stiles absolutely lights up the instant he spies Derek walking into office with two cups in his hand sets him at ease.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that hot chocolate for me?” he asks eagerly, making grabby hands in Derek’s direction.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s only an extra three dollars, but the beam on Stiles’ face when Derek hands him the hot chocolate, the sappy part of Derek tells him that it’s priceless. And it turns out that hot chocolate is all it takes to unlock the garrulous side of Stiles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Derek has heard Stiles’ voice often filtering through the bullpen door whenever it swings open often enough. The soothing timbre of his voice, much deeper than Derek expected, when he tries to reassure a five year old who had wandered into the office clutching his stuffed shark, tears rolling down his chubby cheeks, as he wailed for his mother. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The high-pitched cackles whenever Isaac tells him a dad joke, which Stiles appears to be a fan of. And the dulcet tones when he converses with other deputies. Stiles has even managed to hold a conversation with Boyd, the man who had held the title of ‘Most Reticent’ in the office before Derek snatched it from him on his transfer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He has no idea why it bothers him; it is well established that Derek isn’t exactly a scintillating conversationalist, he preferred to keep to himself, and the week where he conversed in grunts to annoy his siblings was one of the highlights of his life. He has made an effort to interact with the other deputies, but he still isn’t exactly a chatterbox. Yet, there is something about Stiles that makes him wish he was less socially awkward or had less of a RBF, just so he could have that unbridled laughter directed at him once.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But now, Stiles actually actively engages him in conversation! Derek has even taken to heading in for his shifts fifteen minutes earlier, just to have that extra bit of time with Stiles. He would slide into the receptionist area, placing the cup of hot chocolate in Stiles’ hands, taking in the sight of the young man’s eyelids fluttering close as he takes in his first sip of the beverage, a smile creeping onto his face. (“</span>
  <em>
    <span>In an uncreepy way!” Derek had protested when he had first told Laura about his new morning routine.</span>
  </em>
  <span>)</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Both men will sip at their drinks while conversing. And over the next month, Derek learns all about Stiles’ best friend - Scott who is a vet’s assistant, while Stiles is regaled with tales of Cora and Laura. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had fallen off his chair in laughter when Derek told him about the time his geographically-challenged sister had somehow booked a flight to London for her exchange programme, only to land in London, Ontario instead. What had ensued was a frantic scramble to book a last-minute flight to make it on time for the start of her semester.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Five weeks after the first cup of hot chocolate, Derek goes by the coffee shop en route to work as usual. But this time he doesn’t stop for a coffee, nor does he stop for a hot chocolate. When he bursts through the office door, Stiles looks up expectantly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey Der! No coffee today?” he comments. And as much as Stiles tries to hide, Derek can see a tiny pout forming. He feels a sense of relief washing over him at that sight, and he’s glad, not in a malicious way, but he is pleased nonetheless to know that their standing coffee tradition is as precious to him as it is to Stiles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And it gives him the courage and confidence to lean across the counter and say, “No coffee for now, but how about one on your break later with me?”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! And I hope you have a great day ahead 💙</p></blockquote></div></div>
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